


Akira no Go

by GrnEydDvl



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 19:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrnEydDvl/pseuds/GrnEydDvl
Summary: The day that Shindou Hikaru died, Touya Akira locked himself in his room and wouldn't come out. Touya had always warned Hikaru that all that cup ramen would be the death of him. He had just never meant it quite so literally. But for some reason, brilliant go players seem to have a hard time staying dead...





	Akira no Go

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to my dear friend and student, A.M. who is hopefully finding peace somewhere. Miss you man.

The day that Shindou Hikaru died, Touya Akira locked himself in his room and wouldn’t come out.  Touya had always warned Hikaru that all that cup ramen would be the death of him.  He had just never meant it quite so literally.

It was the most important game either of them had ever played.  Of course, every game they played against each other was somehow more important than any game they played against anyone else, even if it was just a casual game on a lazy Sunday afternoon.  But this game was different.  This was the final game in the Houinbou league.  Whoever won would earn the right to challenge Kuwabara-sensei for his title.  Neither of them had managed to enter a title match yet, and at the tender age of 18, the winner would break the record for the youngest challenger since the inception of the tournament.

The match had become something of a festival for the go community.  Weekly Go had called it “the game of the decade, not to be missed.”  Hikaru and Touya’s fierce rivalry was public knowledge by this point, but official matches between them were few and far between.  And a match with this much riding on it was certain to be spectacular.  The viewing room, which usually held only a reporter and the odd bored pro or two, was standing room only.

You would think that all of those people might have remembered that Hikaru needed lunch.  They didn’t.

It was a good game, a solid game, and Touya held his own, but Hikaru took an early lead and by lunch time, it was obvious to Touya that he was going to lose.  While the game was still close, Touya knew Hikaru’s go better than most people, and the situation he now found himself in was all but hopeless.  The game paused for lunch, but Touya stayed where he was, trying frantically to think of a way out of his doomed situation.  Hikaru stayed with him.  Touya never ate during a game, but over the years he had at least developed the habit of joining Hikaru while he ate.  By the time Hikaru looked up at the clock, it was 12:45.  The game was supposed to start again at 1:00.

“Crap, lunch!” Hikaru groaned.  “I totally forgot.  And I didn’t bring anything to eat today.”  He jumped to his feet.  “Touya, I’m going to run across the street and buy some cup ramen.  Do you want anything?”  Hikaru already knew that Touya would say no, but he asked anyway.  They were just like that, the two of them.  Bitter enemies on the go board, the best of friends off it.  Touya smiled at the thought and shook his head.

If Touya had known then that this would be the last conversation he would ever have with Hikaru, he would have voiced that thought out loud.  But he didn’t know, so he didn’t say it.

Touya continued to stare at the board, praying that he could find a path to life, but the more he looked, the more impossible it seemed.  He was so focused on the game in front of him that he didn’t hear the screams.  He didn’t hear the frantic shouting or the sirens blaring down the street.  An earthquake could have ripped through the room and Touya still would not have noticed.  Nothing meant more to Touya than this game.  Nothing.  Except what was occurring outside.  But he didn’t know that.

Touya didn’t hear Amano enter the room.  He didn’t hear him call his name.  He didn’t even notice him at all until a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder and he was forced from his trance with a jolt.

“Touya-kun!  What are you still doing here?”  Amano’s face was pale and lined with worry.  As Touya slowly brought his go-soaked brain back to reality, he began to realize that something was wrong.  He could hear sirens outside, and hurried footsteps and tense voices in the hallway.  He glanced at the clock.  It was 1:15.  And he and Amano were the only people in the room.

“What’s going on?” Touya asked.  “Where is everyone?”  Amano’s face was strained, as if he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.  He took a deep breath.

“Touya-kun,” he said steadily.  “There was an accident.  Shindou-kun was hit by a car.  He…he died instantly.”

The words didn’t click right away in Touya’s head.  He couldn’t understand.  Dead?  Hikaru couldn’t be dead.  They were in the middle of a game!  Hikaru wouldn’t just abandon a game like that.  He couldn’t!  Shoving Amano aside, Touya sprinted from the room, heart pounding in his ears as he raced to the street, knocking into several people and not caring.

Touya was only partially processing the stimuli around him.  A mass of people.  Yellow tape.  An ambulance and two police cars.  Touya pushed himself to the front of the crowd and came to a grinding halt.  Blood.  More blood than Touya had ever seen in his life.  He felt dizzy, unstable.

And then he saw it.  Lying abandoned in the middle of the red pool was a plastic bag from the convenience store.  Inside were a container of cup ramen and a bottle of Touya’s favorite barley tea.  Hikaru hated that tea.  And suddenly, the weight of what had occurred finally hit him full force.  Touya want to vomit and scream and cry all at the same time.

“It’s not true,” he said with disbelief.  “It can’t be true.  He _can’t_ be gone!”

Two paramedics were standing nearby, talking to each other and taking notes, and Touya tore up to them, grabbing one of them by the lapels.

“Shindou!” he said desperately.  “Where’s Shindou?”  The man he was holding looked confused.

“He means the body,” the other man said, prying Touya’s hands off his companion.  “Sorry, but no one’s allowed near that body.  Health risk you understand.”

Body?  BODY?!  Touya felt more rage than he had ever experienced surge through him.

“He is NOT a body!” he shrieked.  “He’s my best friend!  Give him back!”  He lunged towards the ambulance.

“Shindou!” he cried.  “Shindou, answer me!”  He felt arms grab his shoulders, but he fought them off.  He felt that if he could just reach the ambulance, everything would be ok.  Hikaru would be inside, with nothing more serious than a scraped knee and would berate him for leaving the game over something so trivial.  A second pair of hands joined the first, but Touya was kicking and punching and biting like a wildcat, pushing with all his might towards his last desperate hope.  He felt a sharp pinch in his back and he knew no more.

oooooooooooooooo

Touya awoke with a pounding headache and pain in every joint.  It took him a moment to register the fact that he was at home, in his futon, with his mother sitting beside him, washing his face with a damp cloth.  Everything in his memory seemed a bit fuzzy.

“You’re awake,” Akiko said with relief.  “I was so worried when they told me they had to sedate you.  Are you alright?”

The memory of what had happened hit Touya like a ton of bricks, physically knocking the wind out of him even though he hadn’t moved.  Hikaru was dead and his mother was asking him if he was alright?  Biting back the urge to scream bloody murder with all the force he could muster, Touya nodded.

“I’m fine mother,” he lied.  “Would you please leave me alone for a while?”  She smiled softly.

“Of course.  Dinner will be ready soon, so come down when you’re hungry.”  Touya nodded again, wondering vaguely if he would ever be hungry again.  Akiko rose to leave, but paused briefly at the door.

“I’m sorry about Shindou-kun,” she said before closing the door behind her.  Touya pressed his hands to his face as images of the day flashed through his mind.  The lost game.  Amano’s eyes as he broke the news.  Ramen and barley tea lying in a pool of blood.  He knew that Hikaru’s death was the fault of the person who hit him, but Touya couldn’t help but wonder, if Hikaru hadn’t stopped to buy that tea, would he still be alive?  The tea had been a gift for him.  Touya was sure of that.  And the thought that he had played a part in Hikaru’s death, no matter how small, made him sick to his stomach. 

“You can’t leave me,” he said, his eyes starting to burn.  “You can’t!  Weren’t we supposed to reach the hand of god together?  Shindou!”  But as the tears began to roll down his cheeks, he knew that this overwhelming grief was about much more than go.  His life had revolved around Hikaru since he was 12 years old.  Over time, they had become much more than rivals.  They had become friends.  Best friends.  Hikaru was his only real friend, the one person who knew absolutely everything about him, the one who understood him best of all.  The only person he really, truly needed in his life.  And now he was gone.  Touya wrapped an arm around his head and bawled like a baby.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Touya didn’t eat dinner that night.  He had no desire whatsoever to sit at a table with his concerned parents and pretend that he felt anything other than empty and miserable.  He also was fairly confident that he wouldn’t be able to keep his food down.  His appetite didn’t return the next day, or the day after that.  It wasn’t until the third day when his mother barged into his room with a tray of food, shoved chopsticks into his hand, and insisted that she didn’t want to bury her son too before Touya finally managed to eat something.  After that he was a bit more conscious of it, if only for his mother’s sake.

He couldn’t sleep.  Considering how much time he spent in his futon, it should have been easy, but every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was blood.  Blood, and that bag of ramen and tea.  So Touya’s days were filled with fitful, restless dozing, punctuated by endless nightmares that continued to haunt him even during his waking hours.

He had visitors.  Ogata, Ashiwara, and Ichikawa all came to the house to see how he was coping, but he locked his door and refused to meet with them.  He didn’t really want to see anyone, preferring to mourn in peace.  Having visitors would force him to talk about Hikaru, about the accident, about what he was feeling and what he was planning on doing now.  None of those were things Touya particularly wanted to think about.  He had no idea how he was supposed to live without Hikaru in his life, and he was pretty sure that nothing anyone would say to him would help.

A week after the accident, his mother knocked on his door.

“Akira-san, are you ready to go?”  Touya wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about, and, as he hadn’t left his bed in a week, he wasn’t exactly ready to go anywhere.

“Go where?” he asked.

“The funeral,” Akiko replied.  “I told you about it yesterday.”  Touya had a vague memory of her saying something like that, but he had instantly and firmly removed it from his mind.  The thought of going to Hikaru’s funeral was too permanent, too real.  He didn’t think he could stand there, in front of Hikaru’s family and friends and give his condolences without breaking down completely.  He knew a funeral would probably help him begin to heal, but at the moment, he didn’t really want to heal.  Hiding in his futon felt significantly better than leaving it and facing the reality on the other side of his door.

“Sorry mother,” he said.  “I’m not going.”  Touya rolled over and covered his ears against his mother’s protests.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

He felt a little guilty about the first match he missed.  It wasn’t an overwhelmingly important game, just a first preliminary match for the Tengen title, nothing he couldn’t make up next year.  He knew he should go.  He knew that Hikaru would want him to keep playing no matter what happened, but he just couldn’t find the motivation.

When Touya was little, he played go for his father.  He wanted his father to look at him and be proud of him, so he worked hard to achieve that.  Then, when he was 12 years old, this yellow, energetic fireball burst into his life and changed everything.  The frustrating, annoying, go prodigy Shindou Hikaru was a gift from the gods.  And ever since that fateful day, Touya had played go for him.  He wanted to play Hikaru, be close to Hikaru, understand Hikaru.  And now that Hikaru was gone, Touya wasn’t sure what he was playing go for.  And so, instead of going to his match, Touya closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Missing games was easier after that.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

It was a month after Hikaru had died that Touya heard his parents argue for the first time in his life.

“There’s something wrong with this!” his mother cried.  “He hasn’t left his room in a month!  He hasn’t bathed, he’s barely eaten, he’s not going to his matches.  I don’t know what to do anymore.  This isn’t healthy!”

“He’s grieving,” Kouyo replied.  “Leave him be.  He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

“But it’s not natural!  I know that Shindou-kun was his best friend but there is still something strange about his behavior.  It makes me wonder about the true nature of their relationship.”  Touya couldn’t hear his father’s answer, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.  Instead he covered his face with his pillow and drowned out the rest of the argument.

oooooooooooooooooooo

He received a notice from the go institute.  He had officially been selected as the challenger for the Houinbou title.  Even though he had technically abandoned his right by leaving the game, it was decided that death was about as good a resignation as anyone was ever going to get, so Touya had been declared the winner.  He read the letter with shaking hands, anger coursing through his veins.

“But I _lost_ that game!” he protested.  “I lost it!  I’m not the challenger.  Shindou is!  Shindou deserves it.  I don’t…I don’t…”  He cried out in pain and rage, ripping the letter to shreds.  But that wasn’t enough to satisfy the violent fury that had possessed him, so he grabbed a go ke and threw it across the room as hard as he could, sending go stones flying everywhere.

He heard urgent footsteps running towards his room, followed by his mother pounding on the door.

“Akira-san!  Akira-san, are you ok?”

“Leave me alone!” he shouted as his eyes welled up with tears.  “I’m sorry mother, but please just leave me alone.”

“Akira-san, I’m worried about you.  Won’t you come out so we can talk about this?”  Touya felt bad about being rude to his mother, but he just didn’t have the energy to be polite at the moment.

“I’m sorry I just…I need to think.  Please just go away.”  Touya could almost sense his mother’s uncertainly, but she obliged and he could hear her move away.

Touya looked at his go stone covered room and came to a decision.

“I’m not the challenger.  Shindou is.  I have no right to take his place.”

The notice had told him that the first game would be played in a week.  But the day of the first match came and went, and still Touya did not leave his room.  The go institute called him repeatedly with reminders about the second match, but he didn’t go to that one either.  For the third match, they actually sent someone to his house to come get him, but Touya barricaded himself in his room and no amount of pleading, begging, or banging on his door could convince him to budge.

The day before he was scheduled to leave for the fourth match, his mother knocked on his door.

“Akira-san,” she said softly.  “You have a visitor.”  Touya groaned.

“Mother, I’m really not in the mood to see anyone.  I’m sorry, but could you please send them away.”

“It’s Shindou-kun’s mother,” Akiko said.  That got Touya’s attention.  He hadn’t wanted visitors because he didn’t want to see anyone who couldn’t understand the depth of his pain.  But if anyone could relate to what he was going through, it would be Hikaru’s mother.

“Tell her I’ll be right down,” he said.  He was suddenly painfully aware that he hadn’t bathed in nearly two months, but there wasn’t much he could do about it at this point.  He ran a brush through his hair and put on clean clothes in an effort to make himself presentable.  Then, with a deep breath, he finally left the confines of his room and made his way into the kitchen.

Shindou-san looked terrible.  Her face was pale and drawn and there were thick dark circles under her eyes.  She had lost a lot of weight since the last time Touya had seen her.  But as Touya was convinced that he looked much the same as she did, he was less self-conscious.  He sat across from her and took the cup of tea his mother had left for him, more to have somewhere to put his hands than because he actually wanted it.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment as Touya fished around for the right thing to say.  But it was Shindou-san who spoke first.

“Your mother asked me to come see you,” she admitted.  “She says you haven’t left your room since…since then.”  Touya felt a flash of anger at his mother for dragging this grieving woman from her mourning, but he swallowed it.  He supposed he had been worrying her much more than was necessary.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go to the funeral,” he blurted out.  “I just couldn’t…couldn’t bring myself to…to say goodbye...”  Shindou-san nodded her understanding.

“You were very important to Hikaru,” she said, giving Touya a compassionate look.  “He cared about you a great deal.  Probably more than he cared about me to be honest.”

“I don’t think that…” Touya began, but Shindou-san cut him off by taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m just glad that he had someone so special in his life.  Thank you for being Hikaru’s friend.”  Touya felt his eyes begin to water, but he bit back his tears, willing himself not to cry in front of this woman.  She had surely shed enough tears already.

“I brought something for you,” Shindou-san continued.  “I think Hikaru would have wanted you to have it.”  She placed a heavy looking box on the table and passed it to him.  Touya opened it apprehensively.  Inside was Hikaru’s go board.  Touya’s breath caught in his throat as he ran a loving hand over the surface.  It was a cheap board, made of inexpensive katsura wood and was scratched and worn from use.  It wasn’t as fine as the kaya board he himself owned, but to Touya, nothing in the world could have been more precious.

“Thank you,” he said as his tears finally spilled over and ran silently down his cheeks.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Touya holed himself up in his room again, wanting to be alone with Hikaru’s go board.  He traced every line with trembling fingers, remembering all the games they had played on it and trying to picture the thousands of times Hikaru had sat in front of it with that stern game face of his.  Instead of depressing him further, the action seemed to comfort him.  It felt nice to have such an important piece of Hikaru in his room.  As he studied every square inch of the board he noticed something in the corner that he had never seen before.  Upon closer inspection, Touya thought it looked like a ramen stain, as if Hikaru had spilled on it.  Next to the ramen was another, dark brown mark that looked curiously like barley tea.

“Shindou, did you really eat on your board?” Touya wondered in exasperation.  And then he heard a voice above him say,

“You can see it Touya!  I knew you’d be able to!”  Touya didn’t even need to try.  He recognized that voice.  It belonged to Hikaru.  Touya nearly had a heart attack.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Touya gulped and looked up slowly.  There he was.  Standing there in the same yellow dress shirt and blue slacks he had worn for their last game, goofy grin plastered on his face, holding the white and purple fan he always had with him when he played go.  It was Shindou Hikaru in all his glory, solid and lifelike, and standing in Touya’s room like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You look like the living dead Touya,” Hikaru observed, his smile widening.  “Did you miss me that much?”

“What…but…you…I…” Touya blabbered incoherently.  “I’m hallucinating!  I’ve finally gone mad!”  Hikaru threw his head back and laughed gleefully.  And, despite the fact that Touya was convinced he was having a nervous breakdown, somewhere in his mind he registered just how much he missed that sound.

“No, you haven’t gone mad.  Don’t worry Touya, you’re just as sane as I am.”

“Oh yes, my hallucination telling me that I’m sane makes me feel so much better!” Touya retorted.  Hikaru chuckled and plopped himself down across from Touya.

“I’m not a hallucination,” he explained.  “I’m a ghost.  You’re the only one who’s able to see me.  And since you can see me, I bet you can touch me too.”  Hikaru reached out and took Touya’s hand.  And Touya felt it.  He _felt_ Hikaru touch him.  It didn’t feel quite like touching a person.  It was cooler and more ethereal, like holding onto solid air.  But there was no doubt that _something_ was touching him, was squeezing his hand tightly and stroking his fingers.  Hikaru laughed again.

“I knew it would work!  Sai could always touch me, even though he couldn’t touch anything else.”  Touya’s brain was on overdrive at this point, trying to process everything all at once, but somehow the pieces seemed to slowly fall into place.

“Sai was…a ghost?” he asked.  Hikaru nodded.

“I guess there’s no point in keeping it from you any longer.  Maybe you’ll understand why I’m here better if I tell you the truth.”  And so, Hikaru launched into the long awaited revelation of Sai.  He told Touya everything, from the moment he found the old go board in his grandfather’s shed, right up until his final dream the night after he and Touya had played their first official match.  Hikaru held Touya’s hand throughout the entire story, and it was only that sensation, that strange touch that kept Touya grounded and convinced him that he wasn’t dreaming or going clinically insane.  But he was still wary.  He wasn’t fully convinced yet that this wasn’t all some strange supernatural phenomenon.  He couldn’t believe that he had Hikaru back yet because if he lost him again at this point, he didn’t think he would survive the shock.

Hikaru finished his story and looked Touya in the eye.

“So, do you believe me?”

“Well,” Touya replied. “I don’t think you could possibly make a story like that up.  And since it’s the same conclusion I came to myself, I can’t very well say that it doesn’t make sense.  But, are you really Shindou?  How do I know that this is all real?  Do I really…have you back?” he asked hopefully.  Hikaru shrugged.

“I don’t know what to say to you Touya.  I know that I’m back, at least for now, but I don’t know how long I’ll get to stay with you, or how to convince you that I’m really me and not just some figment of your imagination…”  Hikaru paused as his eyes fell on the go board.

“Touya,” he said as his face lit up.  “Let’s play!”  Touya was confused.

“Play?” Hikaru rolled his eyes.

“Yes idiot, play.  No one knows my go better than you do.  If we play a game, you’ll be able to tell for sure whether I’m really me or not.”  Touya looked at his board.  He hadn’t gone anywhere near go since Hikaru had died, but the thought of playing a game with Hikaru, even a Hikaru that his mind had conjured up to torture him was just too tempting.

“I can’t touch the stones,” Hikaru explained.  “So I’ll show you where I want to move and you’ll have to place them for me.”  Touya nodded and the game began.

Touya would live to be an old, old man, and play thousands of games of go, but there were a few games that he would remember as clearly as if they happened yesterday.  The first two games he played against Hikaru in his father’s go salon.  The first time he beat his father in an even game.  The last game of the Gosei match, when he finally managed to take a title from Ogata.  And the first game he played against Hikaru’s ghost.

It was, without question, the greatest game they had ever played together.  Hikaru fought with all his strength, and Touya responded in kind, the stones saying what words could not.  How deeply they understood each other.  How much they needed each other.  How neither could imagine a world without the other.  By the time they counted territories (Touya won by a half moku), Touya was crying freely.

“It’s you,” he whispered, barely audible.  “It’s really you.”  Touya buried his face in his hands and cried as relief flooded his system.  Hikaru was back.  He didn’t care if he was a ghost, he didn’t care if no one else could see him.  Hikaru was here with him, could play go with him, could talk to him and argue with him and tease him just as he always had.  It was more than he could ever have thought possible and he didn’t know how to respond.  He felt Hikaru’s strange arms wrap around him and he fell into his embrace, too overcome with emotion to do much else.  They stayed like that for a long while, and Touya savored every second.  Finally, Hikaru broke the silence.

“So, are you the Houinbou yet?”

“Eh,” Touya began awkwardly, bringing himself back to reality.  “I, ah…I forfeited the first three games,” he admitted sheepishly.  He didn’t know if Hikaru understood how much pain he had been in the last two months, but there was no reason to hide anything from him anymore.

“You what?” Hikaru yelled, separating himself from Touya.  “Why?”  Touya looked directly at him, his face set.

“Because I’m not the rightful challenger.  You are.  You won that game, and we both know it.”  Hikaru groaned.

“Why are you always so stubborn?  Touya, I _died_.  I think that pretty much means I resigned the game.”

“That’s what the go institute said when they named me the challenger, but I just couldn’t play in your place.  Not like that.”

“But the game wasn’t over yet,” Hikaru countered.  “You could have made a comeback.”  Touya shook his head.

“No I couldn’t have.  We both know that.”

“If you think that you lost that game so soundly, than prove it.  Let’s finish it.  We can talk about Houinbou matches after that.”  Finish the game?  Touya was suddenly afraid that perhaps the reason Hikaru’s ghost had come back was simply to play the rest of that match.  If they finished it and he and lost Hikaru again…but Hikaru already had his game face on, and the urge to fight was burbling inside him once more.

“Ok,” Touya agreed at last.  He set up the game and took a deep breath.

“Onegaishimasu,” he said, inclining his head.

“Onegaishimasu,” Hikaru replied.  And so they continued where they left off when both of them still had heartbeats.  It didn’t take long.  It had been a lost cause from the start and Touya knew that, but he refused to demean either of them by losing on purpose, and so he played to the best of his abilities.  It didn’t matter.  He still lost.

“I resign,” he said when the win loss ratio was completely decided.  “I knew you had won this game.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Hikaru said with a grin.  “Too bad I couldn’t have actually done it while I was alive.  I’ve never beaten you in an official match before.”  Touya continued to stare at the board as a thought came to him.

“Shindou, why don’t you play the Houinbou matches?”

“Huh?” Hikaru asked, confused.

“You play them.  I’ll go the matches and sit at the board and place the stones, but you play.  Just like you did for Sai.”  Hikaru shook his head.

“I can’t do that to you.  Every time Sai played, I got into trouble.”

“Was meeting me really that bad?” Touya asked rhetorically.  Hikaru smirked.

“Yeah.  You’re a right little pain, you know that?”  Touya smiled for the first time in two months.  He didn’t care how long Hikaru had left to haunt him.  Whether it was a day, a year, or a lifetime, Touya was going to treasure every moment of it.  He would never take this blessed, miraculous opportunity for granted.  Ever.  And he would start by letting Hikaru play the match he was meant to play.

“I don’t care if I get into trouble.  I’ll find a way to handle it.  Besides, our strengths are practically identical, so I doubt most people will notice.  And those that do, well, they don’t matter as much as you do.”  Hikaru scratched the back of his head.

“Well, if that’s what’ll get you to go to the game, then I guess I’ll play it.”  He smiled at Touya and Touya smiled back.  Suddenly, everything felt right with the world.  And Touya felt himself relax as all the stress and strain and grief of the past two months melted out of him.  And as his body normalized, his stomach growled loudly.  Hikaru laughed at him.

“Touya, you really should eat something.  I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any thinner, but somehow you managed it.”

“Yeah, I guess I should,” Touya agreed, realizing for the first time in a long while that he was starving.  And so, after two months of isolation, Touya willingly left his room and joined his parents for dinner.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

“You’re really going to your match?” Akiko asked nervously as Touya pulled on his jacket.

“I’m going,” Touya replied.  He felt like a whole new person.  Last night he had eaten his fill, bathed properly, and slept soundly for the first time in two months.  With Hikaru at his side, he felt invincible.  His mother, on the other hand, looked worn out.  Touya had been too wrapped up in his own depression to notice, but she too had lost weight, and there were worry lines etched into her forehead.  And for the first time he fully appreciated what he had put her through.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused these last few months,” he apologized, bowing deeply.  “I won’t hide in my room anymore.  I promise.”  He held his head up high to prove to her that he was serious.  Akiko looked more relieved than Touya had ever seen her.

“Take care of yourself and play your best,” she said with a soft smile.  Touya returned it and picked up his bag.

“I’m off,” he announced, and with that, he and Hikaru left for the match.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

As expected, there was a barrage of questions upon his arrival.  He had, after all, missed three matches out of a seven game series.  Several of the people present had witnessed Touya’s hysterical display at the ambulance.  And while Touya and Hikaru’s rivalry was well known, their friendship was not.  Even those closest to them didn’t fully understand the unbreakable bond the two of them shared.  It was difficult for others to comprehend why Hikaru’s death had had such an enormous impact on Touya.  Waya, Isumi, Honda, and other of Hikaru’s more publicly known friends had been shocked and devastated and had cried at the funeral, but none of them had resorted to hermitage or had missed match after match.  And even though Touya felt refreshed and reenergized, his body still showed the signs of his two month isolation.  He had lost a significant amount of weight, his eyes were still ringed and raw from lack of sleep and excessive tears, and hadn’t had time to get his hair cut. 

Luckily, no one berated him too badly for skipping the first three matches, what with the circumstances and all, but they did grill him ruthlessly about the reason for his self-imposed mourning period.  The memory of that pain was still fresh and raw, and Touya wasn’t particularly eager to dredge it up.

“Touya-kun,” a rookie reporter shouted excitedly, running up to him.  Touya vaguely remembered that the man’s name was Takeda.  “About your recent forfeits, did they have anything to do with Shindou Hikaru’s death?”  Touya wanted to hurt the man, but Hikaru beat him to it.

“That’s none of your business, you pathetic little toad,” Hikaru taunted, making faces at the reporter, taking full advantage of his invisibility.  Touya struggled hard not to laugh.  He didn’t think it would be taken the right way.  But Hikaru’s actions gave him the strength to reply.

“Shindou meant a great deal to me,” he said simply.  “I will play the remaining Houinbou matches in his memory.”

“Nice answer!” Hikaru grinned, giving Touya the thumbs up as the reporter scribbled furiously.       Touya tried with all his might to keep a straight face when he really wanted to laugh and face plant at the same time.

“About getting me into trouble…” Touya thought so that only Hikaru could hear.  He was immensely grateful that he could communicate telepathically with Hikaru.  He felt that it would save him much embarrassment in the years to come.  Hikaru grinned widely.

“Oh come on, it’s just too much fun!”  Touya couldn’t help but grin at that, but he moved away from Takeda at the same time, so he didn’t think he noticed.

“Oh ho, back from your extended vacation are you?” came a discordant voice, and Touya turned around to face the infamous Kuwabara-sensei.  “And here I was hoping I could get through a tournament without playing a single game.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Kuwabara-sensei,” Touya replied, squaring his shoulders and facing the title holder proudly.  “But I don’t think it will be as easy to keep your title as you think.”  Kuwabara looked at him with that distinctive gleam in his eye.

“You crawled out of that hole yourself boy.  You chose to play this game.  Don’t expect any mercy from me.”  In a backhanded sort of way, it was the kindest thing anyone had said to Touya all morning.  Everyone else expressed concern over the fact that Touya was three games down, that he looked sickly and unwell, or that his game may not be up to par if he was still suffering from grief.  But Kuwabara, who seemed to know exactly how Touya and Hikaru felt about each other, knew that Touya wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t recovered fully.  And he would play him with all of his strength.  Touya appreciated his honesty and his vote of confidence.

“I wonder how he would feel if he knew I wasn’t actually going to play,” Touya thought.  Hikaru grinned mischievously.

“I can’t wait to wipe that satisfied smirk off his face.”  He rubbed his hands together hungrily.  “This is going to be a fun game.”

“I’m sorry you’re starting three games down,” Touya apologized.  Hikaru frowned.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me Touya,” he said sternly.  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.  And if you get all pathetic on me, I’ll make your life miserable.”  Touya smiled in spite of himself and shook his head.

“Alright, I’m not sorry.  You’re just going to have to win all four games.  It’s about time someone took Kuwabara-sensei down.”  A mischievous smile spread across Hikaru’s face.

“That’s just what I plan to do!”

ooooooooooooooooooooo

If Touya was concerned that playing for Hikaru would be difficult, he needn’t have worried.  He knew Hikaru’s go so well that he predicted many of the moves before Hikaru made them.  It was a strange position to be in, playing for someone else, but he felt just as in tuned to the game as if he was playing himself.  And he felt overwhelming pride and satisfaction that Hikaru was actually able to play this all important game.

After a few hours, during which time Hikaru made amazing headway, the match paused for lunch.

“You should eat something Touya,” Hikaru said.  “You could use to gain some weight.”

“I’ll eat,” Touya thought in reply.  “I’m not actually playing, so it’s not like it’ll throw my game off.”

All the affiliates groaned and stretched as they made their way out of the room.  Touya was almost at the door when he heard Kuwabara say,

“Shindou Hikaru.”  Touya gulped and turned around.  Kuwabara hadn’t moved.  He was still sitting in his chair, observing the board with a calculating look that was distinctly different from his game face.  He turned his gaze up to Touya and gave him a penetrating glare.  He elaborated.

“It’s as if this match was played by Shindou Hikaru.”  Touya froze.  He knew that some people might have noticed that his style was a bit different, but he wasn’t expecting anyone to hone in on whose go it was quite so soon.

“Hehe, guess Kuwabara-sensei’s pretty sharp huh?” Hikaru said nervously, scratching the side of his head.

“What do you mean, Kuwabara-sensei?” Amano asked.

“The style of play,” Kuwabara answered.  “The flow of the stones.  The atmosphere around the board.  And this move.”  Kuwabara pointed to a stone in the lower right corner.  Touya hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but looking at it now, it was such a Hikaru-esk move it might as well have had his signature on it.

“Boy,” Kuwabara continued, shooting Touya a blood-curdling glare.  “Would you care to explain this?”

“I…” Touya began, but found himself at a loss for words.  He looked hopefully at Hikaru, but he just shrugged his shoulders.  And then it came to him.  He could tell the truth.  Or at least part of it.  Taking a deep breath, he said as calmly as he could,

“It is my firm belief that Shindou is the rightful challenger for the Houinbou title.  However, since he cannot play these games himself, I will play them for him.”

“Ooo, very neat Touya!” Hikaru said with a grin.  The rest of the room was stunned.  Takeda elbowed Amano.

“Is it easy to play in another player’s style?” he asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Amano replied, shaking his head vigorously.  “It’s extremely difficult.  It leaves you open to all kinds of mistakes and uncertainties.  Touya-kun, are you sure about this?  You’re already three games down.”

“I’m very aware of the record Amano-san,” Touya replied confidently.  “And I’ll play my games as I see fit to play them.”  And with that, he left the room, feeling that there was no more need to defend himself.

“Interesting,” Kuwabara mumbled to himself.  “That brat is still interesting, even after he’s dead.”

oooooooooooooooooooo

The go community was in a state of upheaval.  The Houinbou match was turning out to be the most exciting, confusing, and record breaking series that had ever been played.  Not only was Touya the youngest title challenger in history, he had also forfeited three of the seven games (also a first).  And, no one had ever won a title after losing the first three matches, and yet Touya had won three games in a row.  On top of that, he was playing his games in another player’s style.  After Kuwabara had pointed it out, more people began to notice.  Top pros, Hikaru’s friends, and others who had played Touya and Hikaru regularly noticed that the kifu from the Houinbou matches had a distinct Shindou Hikaru flavor.  But Touya refused to say any more about it after his first explanation and the go world was left wondering.

It was the morning of the seventh and final match.  Touya and Hikaru were in Hiroshima, where the game was set to take place.  Touya looked markedly better.  He had put some of his weight back on and his cheeks and eyes no longer appeared sunken and hollow.  He very strategically chose not to eat breakfast with Kuwabara and the other affiliates, preferring the solitude of his room so that he could talk to Hikaru freely.

“Are you nervous?”  Touya asked.

“Hmm?” Hikaru replied distractedly, clearly not paying much attention.

“I said, are you nervous.”  Hikaru shook his head.

“No, what gave you that idea?”

“You’ve been quiet all morning.  Are you feeling alright?”  Hikaru grinned.

“I’m a ghost.  I don’t get sick Touya.”  Touya glared at him.  Hikaru sighed.  “I get this way when I’m in Hiroshima.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Because of Sai?”  Hikaru nodded.

“Anyway,” Hikaru continued, “I should focus on the game today.  After all, it’ll be the last time I ever play someone who isn’t you.”  Touya gave him a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to play any more of your matches for you.  I won’t do that to you.  So I’ll only get to play against you from now on.”  Touya shook his head.

“That’s not true.  You can always play online.  Besides, if you win today, you’re the Houinbou.  Not me.  That means that next year, and the year after, and every year after that, you get to play in the Houinbou match.  At least until you lose it.”

“Touya…”  Hikaru was visibly touched.  A smile crept along his face.

“Then I guess I can’t lose it huh?”

“You have to win it first,” Touya pointed out.  Hikaru grinned broadly.

“Don’t worry, I plan to.”

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Hikaru played spectacularly.  Even Touya, who had seen Hikaru’s games many, many times, had to admit that this was special.  Hikaru pulled out all the stops and played with the depth and creativity that his game was known for, but at a much more intensive level than usual.  He set the pace early in the game and pushed Kuwabara to the edge.  Kuwabara even resorted to his “sealing the move” trick that night, but as Touya had been forewarned, it didn’t have the same effect that it had had on Ogata.

It was just before lunch on the second day when Kuwabara finally surrendered his title.

Touya waited impatiently through the pictures and the post-game discussion.  It felt like ages before he could finally escape to his room where he and Hikaru could talk.

“Congratulations, Touya Houinbou,” Hikaru said as soon as Touya closed his door.

“Don’t you start too!” Touya groaned.  “I was going to offer _you_ the congratulations, Shindou Houinbou.  You actually managed to take a title before me, and I never would have thought that would happen.”

“Yeah, no one else did either, what with me being dead and all.”  Touya threw a pillow at him, but it sailed right through him.  Hikaru laughed.  Touya couldn’t help smiling too.

“But I still feel bad about it,” Touya continued.  “Everyone’s going to call me the Houinbou, but I didn’t play those games.  I don’t deserve it.”

“Torajiro didn’t deserve the title either,” Hikaru pointed out.

“Who?”

“Houinbou Shuusaku.  Sai played all of his games.  Sai was the Houinbou, not Torajiro.  But he still took the title, and he held it with honor.”  Hikaru smiled warmly.  “You’re in good company.”  Touya thought about that.  Hikaru did have a point.  Touya may not have felt that he deserved the title of Houinbou, but the fact that he had helped Hikaru achieve it linked them together with a bond so strong, even death couldn’t break it.  He felt tremendous pride course through him at that realization.  And then he remembered something Hikaru had said to him years earlier.

“You once told me that your reason for playing go was to link the distant past to the distant future.  Well, I think I finally understand that.  And I think, from now on, that can be my reason for playing as well.  Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”  They locked eyes for a long moment, reveling in that feeling of sharing something so important.

“Touya,” Hikaru said, breaking the silence.  “Do you mind if…if I call you…A…Akira?”  Touya was floored.  He was not expecting that question at all.

“W..Why?” he stuttered.  Hikaru scratched his head nervously.

“Well, you’re the only person I’m going to be able talk to for the rest of your life, so it feels kinda weird to have that distance between us, you know?”  Now, lots of people called Touya “Akira”, but they were all people he had known since he was very young.  The thought of Hikaru calling him that was confusing and scary and…nice.

“Ok,” Touya agreed.  “But on one condition.  I get to call you Hikaru.”

“Really?” Hikaru asked excitedly.  “You’re really going to call me Hikaru?”  Touya glared at him.

“Of course.  Why should you call me by my first name if I don’t call you by yours?  Besides, I don’t want there to be any distance between us either.”  Touya felt like he had just admitted something very intimate, but with Hikaru, there was no reason to hide, no reason to keep secrets.  Hikaru would know everything about him from now on, and the least he could do was be honest with him.  He reached out and took Hikaru’s hand.  The feeling of touching a ghost still felt a little strange, but Touya was quickly becoming used to the sensation.

“Let’s go Shin…Hikaru,” he said, enjoying the sound of Hikaru’s first name on his tongue.

“Go where?”  Touya smiled.

“Shuusaku’s grave.  There are some things I want to say to him.  And you can say hi to Sai.”

“Akira,” Hikaru said affectionately, and Touya loved hearing Hikaru say his first name just as much as he loved saying Hikaru’s.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit weird for a ghost to go to a graveyard?” Hikaru asked with a smirk.

“I think it’s quite a natural place for you actually,” Touya replied.  He squeezed Hikaru’s hand tighter as Hikaru laughed.  And Touya thought that he would never, ever, get sick of that sound.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Somewhere in another realm, Sai and Torajiro sat before a go board.

“They’ll be alright now,” Torajiro said.  “Both of them.”

“Yes,” Sai agreed.  “Those two have picked up where we left off.  Maybe they really will play the hand of god someday.”

“They just might do it.  Those two.  Onegaishimasu.” 

Sai smiled as he heard Touya’s voice drift through the air.

“Thank you Sai,” Touya said.  “Thank you Shuusaku.  Thank you for Hikaru.”

“Onegaishimasu,” Sai replied.  And with that, they began to play.


End file.
